"I couldn't sleep in such a tempest as this, when I knew my boys were on the water."

"Well, go to bed now, then, for I must go on board again and clean my fish."

"You shall do nothing of the kind! I will warrant you haven't had a wink of sleep all night long."

"Yes; I slept two or three hours."

"Go right up-stairs, and go to bed, then. You will kill yourself, working all night, and losing your sleep."

"But John is asleep in the cabin of the Fawn. Shall I leave him there?

Suppose the boat should go adrift?"

"Well, then, go down to the boat, and go to bed there. You needn't clean your fish yet."

Paul decided to adopt this suggestion, and in a few moments he was snoring with his brother in the little cabin of the boat.

It was six o'clock when the first officer of the Fawn began to show signs of life, and it was fully quarter past six before he realized, in the fullest sense, that he was still in the land of the living. An unpleasant dream that the gallant craft had been dashed in pieces on Rock Island reef, and that he, the before mentioned first officer of the schooner Fawn, had been thrown upon the rocks, where an enormous green lobster, about the size of a full-grown elephant, had seized him in one of his huge claws, and borne him down among the rock weed and devil's ap.r.o.ns for his breakfast, happily proved to be a mere fantasy of his slumbering faculties.

John sat upon his berth and congratulated himself upon his escape from the claw of the lobster. Then the occurrences of the night, the run off the lee sh.o.r.e, and the white-capped billows that had growled so in the gloom, began to come to his recollection, and he realized that they had had a tough time of it. But it was all right now, for though the rain pattered upon the deck above him, the boat did not pitch much. And there was Paul fast asleep in the other berth; of course it was all right, or he would not be there.

"But where are we?" thought John. "That's the next question. The last thing I remember was, that we were driving like mad over the rough sea.

Then Paul told me to turn in; and I did, but I could hardly keep in my berth, the boat rolled and pitched so. Of course Paul couldn't get up while the wind blew so, and he must have anch.o.r.ed under some island. I wonder where we are."

At last John came to the conclusion that he could find out by simply walking out of the cuddy into the standing room. Acting upon this brilliant idea, he soon ascertained that the Fawn was at anchor near the beach of Bayville. He was somewhat astonished at the fact, and then paid a very high, though inaudible, compliment to the sleeping accommodations of the Fawn, whereof he was first mate.

He then returned to the cuddy,--he and Paul invariably dignified the little place as the _cabin_,--and found that Paul still slumbered. He was considerate enough not to wake him, for he knew that he had had a hard time of it; but it occurred to him that their mother might be desirous of knowing whether they were still in the land of the living or not, and he decided to go up to the house and reveal that important fact. It was very affectionate of him to think of his mother, after he had been snoring like a trooper all night; but John, in spite of his waywardness, was a kindhearted boy, and he came to the unanimous conclusion--he and John--that it was not right to let his mother worry any longer about them. She would be astonished to see him alone, and would immediately make up her mind that Paul was drowned; and he should have the pleasure of informing her that his brother still lived, and was fast asleep in the cabin of the Fawn, whereof he was captain, and he, the speaker, was first mate.

John, on his arrival at the house, walked into the kitchen where Mrs.

Duncan was getting breakfast; walked in as he who does the ghost in Hamlet walks in--with the confident a.s.surance that he is about to create a sensation.

"Well, John, you have got back. Did you sleep well, my son?"

"First rate," growled John. "Why the deuce isn't she astonished?"

thought he. "She ought to be astonished to see me come home after being on the briny deep all night."

"You had a hard time of it--didn't you, John?"

"Well, rather hard; I slept like a log all night--except about half an hour. You didn't expect to see us back--did you?"

"I was a good deal worried till Paul came up and told me you were safe, and that you were asleep in the cabin."

"O, ho! so Paul has been home--has he? That accounts for it. Paul is asleep in the cabin now."

"Let him sleep--he needs rest," replied Mrs. Duncan; and it was after nine o'clock when the family breakfasted that morning.

CHAPTER XIV.

PAUL SCOLDS THE FIRST OFFICER OF THE FAWN.

After breakfast the young fishermen cleaned their perch and cod, and before dinner had disposed of the lot. From the proceeds of the sale, Paul purchased a small lantern, which was suspended in the cabin of the Fawn, for the darkness of that gloomy night was not soon to be forgotten.

The next day was clear and pleasant, and the boat went down as usual, and for more than a fortnight, no event worthy of a place in the history of Paul's fortunes occurred. The new boat worked admirably in every respect, and the boys were as proud of her as England has ever been of the Great Eastern. During these two weeks Paul had taken down three fishing parties, and had given them so good satisfaction, that his services in this line promised to be in demand. As he received four dollars a day for her, including the wages of himself and the first officer, he always welcomed such jobs, and John liked the fun of it even better than fishing, especially when there were any ladies in the party, for it was very amusing to him to see them in the agonies of sea sickness. He took a malicious delight in stowing them away in the berths in the cabin; yet in spite of the fun he made of them John would do all he could to a.s.sist them.

Just before the arrival of the Fawn in the waters of Bayville harbor, Paul had been unanimously elected a member of the Tenean Boat Club. He was very grateful for the honor conferred upon him, but his business was such that he could not often pull an oar in the boat. The members of the club all treated him with a great deal of consideration, though they were all the sons of rich men; and Paul felt that, if he was not their equal in worldly possessions, he could hold his head up with the best of them in the management of a boat.

One day, when the young fisherman called at the house of Major Kettle to sell fish, he met Thomas in the garden, who unfolded to him a magnificent project in which the Teneans--as the members of the Boat Club were generally called--were about to engage.

"We think of going on a cruise in the Flyaway," said Thomas.

"Where?"

"I don't know where yet; but we mean to be gone a week or ten days."

"Who is going with you?"

"Captain Littleton, I suppose, though I had just as lief he would stay at home."

"Of course he wouldn't let a lot of boys go off for a week in the yacht, without some one to take care of them," said Paul, with a smile.

"We can take care of ourselves; we don't want any one to take care of us."

"How many of you are going?"

"Ten or twelve; we want you with us."

"But I can't go."

"Yes you can; why not?"

"I have to attend to my business."

"You can afford to take a vacation of a week or two, I should think."

Paul shook his head. He was delighted with the idea, and would have been very glad to go, but he could not think of neglecting his business to go away upon a pleasure excursion.

"You must go, Paul; the fellows all want you to go, and we shall have a first-rate time."

"I have no doubt you will; and I should be very glad to go with you if I could; but it is of no use for me to think of such a thing."

"It is not fully decided that we are to go yet; but Captain Littleton and my father have consented to let us have the Flyaway. We shall know all about it next week."

Paul continued his walk, but the project of the excursion in the Flyaway haunted his imagination, and it required a great deal of self-denial for him to forego the antic.i.p.ated pleasure. He felt that the summer season was the harvest time of his business, and he could not afford to waste a week or two in idle play. "Little by Little," was his motto, and he was not willing that any of those "littles" should slip through his fingers.

When they went down in the Fawn the next day, he told John about the excursion, and that he had been invited to form one of the party.